


Mornings Can Suck It

by firefly124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, F/M, M/M, Multi, also totally calling this new ot3 sabrena, post 13x21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 03:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: Dean hated mornings.





	Mornings Can Suck It

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [smudgythoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgythoughts/pseuds/smudgythoughts) for not only beta reading but also titling this bit of crack that I couldn't get out of my head after watching 13x21.

Dean hated mornings. 

He might only  _ need _ four hours of sleep, but that didn’t mean that consciousness wasn’t severely overrated (and no he didn’t know how many negatives he’d just did, and he didn’t care because  _ morning _ ).  The one thing that could salvage morning was the smell of coffee, which was fortunately wafting through the bunker as he shuffled toward the kitchen in his Dead Guy Robe.

What?  It was comfy as hell, and while he didn’t mind Sam seeing him wandering around in his boxers, they weren’t the only two in the bunker right now.  Or possibly ever again. 

Coffee.  Right.

When he got to the kitchen and saw that the coffee pot was almost empty, due to its contents being in everyone else’s mugs, Dean absolutely did not whine.  He didn’t, and nobody could prove otherwise, except possibly the three people currently seated in the kitchen. And probably Cas, who might still be meditating or whatever crap he did in his room, but in any case was always quick to remind everyone he was a celestial being and heard everything.

“Hey, early bird gets the worm, Dean-o,” Gabe said. He made a show of looking at his nonexistent watch.  “And early you ain’t.”

“Och, give the lad a break,” Rowena said with a sniff.  “Clearly the poor boy is suffering from sleep deprivation, not to mention  _ other _ deprivations.”

“What?” Dean managed to ask, once he’d replayed that sentence three times and came up with just more word salad.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said, “You’re useless right now.  I’ll get another pot started.”

The three of them were way too chipper.  Dean tried really, really hard not to think about why that was, especially considering the state of Sam’s hair.  Dean was just glad that either Rowena or Gabe was good with the soundproofing spells. (Who was he kidding? It was totally Rowena.  Gabe would be more likely to amplify it directly into Dean’s head, and wasn’t Dean supposed to be trying  _ not _ to think about this?)

“Sit that cute butt down,” Gabe said.  He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, refilling the coffee pot.  “I even made it the good stuff in case any of us go back for thirds.”

Thirds?  Whatever.  Dean grabbed his mug and filled it quickly before gulping it all down and refilling again.  Clearly he had some catching up to do.

“You know, Dean,” Rowena said, “you’d probably sleep better if you addressed your chronic state of cranio-anal inversion.”

Dean just blinked at her.  Not all the coffee in the world was going to make her make sense this morning, it seemed.

“She means you need to pull your head out of your ass,” Gabe chimed in helpfully.

“Uh, about what now?” Dean asked.

“About the same thing for the last ten years,” Sam muttered.

“Huh?” Dean asked intelligently.

“You need to screw my brother,” Gabe said. There was a rustling noise, and Gabe jumped and glared at Sam.  “Ow! What? Obviously whatever subtle shit you’ve been trying hasn’t worked or they wouldn’t stand around  _ pining  _ at each other all the time.  It’s sickening.”

“Gabriel does have a point, love,” Rowena said, tracing a finger along Sam’s forearm.  “It’s not like it’s a secret after all, and you do want your brother to be happy. Right?”

Sam just grunted.

“Okay, we are not having this conversation,” Dean said.  He tossed back the rest of his second mug of coffee and poured himself a third to take back to his room where he wouldn’t have to deal with the gruesome threesome.  Yet another word he needed to strike from his mental vocabulary.

As he turned to stalk back out of the kitchen, Dean found himself face-to-face with Cas.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean replied.  He should probably take a step back, or maybe stop staring into Cas’ amazingly blue eyes, but screw Sabrena over there, he didn’t want to.

“Where are you going?” Cas asked.  “The conversation you just ended does concern both of us, after all.  I thought it only fitting to be present.”

“You heard that?” Dean asked.  His cheeks felt almost as hot as his coffee.

“I  _ am _ a celestial being, Dean,” Cas said.  He squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes.  “Of course I heard that.”

Dean swallowed.  It was completely unfair how hot it was when Cas did whatever you’d call the thing he just did.

“Unless, of course,” Cas continued, “you were planning to seek me out so that we could finish this conversation ourselves?  Because the suggestions being made are, I believe, no one else’s business.”

“Just lookin’ out for you, bro,” Gabe said.

Dean didn’t have to turn around to know what kind of shit-eating grin the archangel was wearing.  The glare Cas sent over Dean’s shoulder made it clear enough.

“What a brilliant idea!” Rowena said.  “Off you go, then. And don’t forget the soundproofing spell.  It is only basic courtesy after all.”

Dean saw Cas’ glare flick to over Dean’s other shoulder, but then it shifted back to Dean and turned into something… else.

“I believe that to be sound advice,” Cas said.  He took hold of Dean’s elbow and pulled him out of the kitchen a bit more roughly than Dean thought was strictly necessary considering that’s where he’d been headed in the first place.  Not that Dean was complaining, exactly. At least he’d managed not to spill any of his coffee.

“Did you just… was that a joke?  I’m so proud of you, li’l bro!” Gabe said with a chuckle.

Cas didn’t answer.  He didn’t say another word until both of them were back in Dean’s room.

“Uh,” Dean started.

“Dean,” Cas cut him off, “we do not have to have this conversation if you truly do not want to.”

Dean snapped his mouth shut.

“However,” Cas went on, “I do believe that Sam’s observation is an important point to consider.  Ten years is a substantial percentage of a human life, and so a long time to delay addressing… this.”

Dean took another gulp of coffee to buy himself a few seconds before he had to say anything.  Cas saw right through that, obviously, because he took the mug out of Dean’s hand and set it down on the bureau.

“Unless, of course, you would prefer to conduct this discussion non-verbally,” Cas said.  When exactly did his eyes get that particularly dark shade of blue?

The hell with it.  Dean swallowed and nodded.

His opinion of mornings might be permanently changed.  Cas might have to re-convince him on a regular basis though, that there were better ways than coffee to salvage them.

And learn that soundproofing spell.

  
  



End file.
